Bizarre
by CaraM
Summary: One-shot. My first fan fic. It explores the reasons behind Gambit joining up with Apocalypse. Of course there are Romy implications. Please read and review!


Bizarre

This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction. I'm a little nervous so please give me a break. The idea for this came when I read The Blood of Apocalypse storyline. I think that we can all agree that pretty much blew. I'm attempting to bridge the Bizarre Love Triangle storyline and the Apocalypse storyline. I don't think that Marvel did the greatest of jobs explaining why Gambit would sacrifice himself to Apocalypse when it never worked out for anyone before him. Or maybe I'm just underestimating the male ego, believe me it wouldn't be the first time. I also wanted to touch on that messy little Foxx issue. Did they, didn't they, the ambiguity was killing me so I had to come up with my own version of events. Maybe I won't be able to do a good job at explaining either. Maybe, gasp, I'll make it worse. Oh well let me know either way but please be gentle, like I said it's my first time;) (Now we all know that Gambit fans are perverts so your all used to cheesy sexual inuendo;)

Oh, one more little issue. I don't do accents. It's nothing personal, believe me I enjoy Rogue and Gambit's accents when done properly but unfortunately I'm not one that can. If it bugs you feel free to add in all the Ah's, merde's, etc… that you want.

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel so I don't own these characters. Life isn't fair:(

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You think about it every time she looks at you. It's like this little picture show that replay's itself every time she looks at you with those unforgiving green eyes. Thank God she isn't a telepath. Life is difficult enough for her right now without her having to watch that particular show.

She's been pretty touchy lately what with her mother joining the crew for unknown and probably disturbing reasons, and of course there's the ever present touch issue. You're a guy so of course it pisses you off that you can't hold her, touch her, kiss, her, taste her…ok that's enough down that train of thought. You really didn't worry much about how she felt about the whole thing. Sex is your domain not hers. You didn't think about it until she started snapping at you every time you made a casual innuendo. I mean, it's you for Christ sakes, it's what you fucking do. And you started noticing the painful look in her eyes whenever she watched Lorna and Bobby holding hands. Then Foxx showed up, all curves and hair and eyes…and she was the female version of you! She wanted sex as much as you did and not for the emotional bond that came with it but instead for the pure animalistic gratification that you used to enjoy so much before love caught you by the short hairs.

I mean, really what is a man supposed to do when every female in the place he lives looks like a fucking supermodel? Especially when that man is you? If this had been a few years ago you would have had each and every one of them, including that bitch Emma, begging you for one more night. Not now. Hell no, now your in love. Now you actually give a shit, which let's face it, most of the time sucks. Not that your complaining. Those few months in California were the best of your life. She was pretty damn amazing, and not just sexually. The girl loved to touch. It became a special language for the two of you. A tap on the leg, a brush of her thigh, a smack upside the head…ah the bliss of love. Now, since the return of her powers, she isn't the same. It's like she's hidden back that part of her that you knew in California and now all that's left is frustration and bitchiness. You've tried to help...those stupid sessions with Emma, but who the hell wants to fuck in their head?

Back to Foxx. Yea, you held out. You couldn't do that to her. She knows you, the real you, and is still here. She knows almost all the bullshit you've ever pulled, or even considered pulling, and is still able to love you. That kind of loyalty deserves, no demands more. So you took the high road. Then turns out Foxx isn't even real. She's Mystique, and you really hate her more now then any female you have ever laid eyes on, which is saying something. Then that blue bitch does something really fucking sick…she turns into the one person that you can't deny. She pushes you against the wall whispering in that honey voice you can't help but want to taste. She presses against you with a body that you already know, a body you really can't help but touch. And you think, can it really be wrong, can it really be wrong if it's only her that I want? And she starts kissing you, and God, you look into those eyes, those damn green eyes that have been so hostile of late, and now you see passion and fire and that's all you want…

So yea, you did it. You officially crossed the line and did something that could definitely get you on Jerry Springer. And the really sick part…you enjoyed every last second of it. Because this wasn't really her. You knew it in the back of your mind, but ignored the reality, and you let loose your inner Sadist. Maybe you wanted to hurt Mystique, please God let that be it. Maybe Mystique just couldn't make the illusion work. You would like to think that. Especially when you remember the pained look on her face when you pulled that striped hair that you love so much, when you bit her shoulder and heard that honey voice yelp. Because if you did it thinking even for a moment that it was her then you have a problem. Scratch that, you have much, much more than a problem and unlike most of the time you have a feeling that the X-Men aren't going to volunteer to help you out with this one. No, you did it because you hate Mystique, that has to be it. Still…

Then you met that asshole Pulse. Mystique hands him up to Rogue on a silver platter. "Look Rogue you can touch him, and he's a thief too…" bitch. And the pulsing thing that he does with his eyes, well that's just weird…says the guy with red and black eyes. (You're nothing if not self-deprecating.) And the really depressing part is that he's actually pretty damn good looking. Not that you're gay but you are secure enough to admit it when another man is attractive. And the way she looks at him sometimes out of the corner of her eye you can tell that she thinks so too. You begin to doubt yourself. Are you just being selfish making her stay with you knowing that she can't touch you, knowing that with him at least she might have a shot at a normal relationship? And she still doesn't completely believe you when you tell her that nothing happened with her mother, smart girl. So now you're back to square one, she doesn't trust you and you're so sexually frustrated and guilt ridden that your back to being the asshole you used to be. You're smoking again on the sly, and your danger room sessions…let's just say that you've created new and innovative ways to kill yourself using a computer program. Hell, a man has to have some kind of outlet for all that energy.

The problem is that you're still madly in love with her. Her mere presence in a room fucks with your whole system. Seeing her talk to other men, that lilt to her voice, her dorky laugh, it makes you want to be the only person in the world to make her do that. It helps that she is gorgeous but that isn't why you love her so much. If her beauty were the only reason you wanted her you could go out and find someone just as good looking that can touch without turning you into a husk. No, it's her soul. That fire in her eyes, they really are phenomenal eyes, that makes you want to be there every morning when they first make their appearance. She doesn't take your shit and for some unknown and incredibly irritating reason that turns you on. You can't charm her, and so you have to resort to actually talking to her in a way that doesn't involve 80% bullshit. It was uncomfortable as hell at first but now you know that she is the only one that really knows who you are underneath it all, and it's comforting. So what the hell are you supposed to do now?

You were asking yourself that as you snuck out tonight. You know that Apocalypse is up to something that will surely, if brought fruition, fuck up the world as you know it, and you start to think. You aren't honest with yourself at first. The thought of you going to Apocalypse and joining up with him is like a fly. You can't stop noticing the idea buzzing in your head, and you wonder how the hell it got there in the first place. Maybe if you go to him and let him do his voodoo on you, you can somehow stop him, become a double agent. You're good, great in fact at that role. So you tell yourself that's why you're sneaking out in the dead of night. You're an X-Men, isn't self sacrifice one of the prerequisites to joining? You're doing it to protect your friends...to protect her. As you sneak into her room to say your silent goodbye and watch her sleep you repeat that over and over…your doing this for her, for her, only for her. But deep inside, down in a deeper place, a place you don't even like to admit that you have, you know the truth. Things are at a stand still and you can't handle it. You're bored. You're sick of feeling guilty about Mystique, you're sick of watching Pulse flirt with your girlfriend, you're sick of Rogue's moods, you're fucking sick of all of it. You can't just sit here in limbo, because this is what your life is right now isn't it? There is no real forward motion, you're stagnant, and that is against your very nature, but you hide these thoughts with all the rest of the shit you try and ignore about yourself. You leave Rogue's room quietly without looking back because you know that if you do…well your resolve was never really good when it came to her.

You were surprised at how quickly Apocalypse accepted your offer. You were honest with him, or at least as honest as you're being with yourself. You told him you were here to watch him and make sure that he didn't step out of line. He smiled, well you think it was a smile, it's pretty hard to tell with that guy. He brought you into the chamber where it was supposed to happen. You're still not very clear on what "it" is but if history has told you anything it involves getting an incredibly unflattering makeover.

You only start to sweat when he begins putting the needles in. You can handle pain, hell you were a willing guinea pig for Sinister once upon a time, but the needles he's sticking in are huge and there are so many of them…God, let him be done soon. He still has that smile on his face and you ask him what's so funny. He doesn't respond, which frightens you. Since when does Apocalypse not talk? Usually you can't get the asshole to shut up. You're suddenly not so sure, but you stay calm. You're Gambit, this is your kind of game. You don't lose…right?

As you enter the machine you feel real unbridled fear. You haven't felt this scared since Antarctica, and even then it was more of a dull fear. This is so all encompassing that nothing else can get through…nothing but her eyes. Even as you begin to feel the change you see them, not as they have been recently but as they were in California. She's smiling at you with those seductive, half lidded, emerald eyes guarded by sooty lashes. Then even they fade and you start to scream. It rises out of you unbidden and you can't feel anything but this hot fire, and oh God just kill me, kill me , kill me…please, make it fucking stop...

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So that's it. I now it wasn't long and definitely not very ambitious but it was my first attempt. I'm not sure why I wrote it in second person but it worked for me. Please, please read and review (yes, I'm begging, I have no pride). Let me know what I did right, wrong, etc…I know I didn't follow the canon completely, but like I said it blew. Sue me, no wait, don't sue me, see disclaimer at top. Anyway thanks for taking the time…


End file.
